


There's A Spell Or Two For That

by unevenstar



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Action, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Developing Relationship, Fantasy Violence, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Human, I LOVE YOU RANDOM W ZERO SEVEN, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poltergeists, Romanian mythology, Sexual Tension, Spells & Enchantments, Wiccan magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unevenstar/pseuds/unevenstar
Summary: [Unexplained house troubles, nightmares, or hidden silhouettes in the corner of your eye? Need help with old spirits invading the peace of your home? Call 3xx-3xx-3xx for a neighborhood ghost banishing, quick and easy with low hourly rates. For more information, contact the phone number listed or email norbutters@fmail.com.]One day, Sigurd put up this advertisement on the local billboard. Let's just say that business runs smoothly, now.Published 12/22/2020
Relationships: Denmark & Norway (Hetalia), Norway/Romania (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Nordictalia Secret Santa





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RandomW07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomW07/gifts).



> i remember laughing really, really hard when i realized i had you as my assignment! oh well. i planned this over a month ago and wrote an entire chapter in 2 sittings today! wow! happy holidays, random :) there will be more to come <3

Cold winter wind blew in from the open window - Sigurd shut it, quickly, and resumed reading his book. He shivered a little from the bite in the air, but it was only typical of the season, and from hanging around his friend, Magnus. Sigurd’s long, slender fingers were cold, and if it weren’t for his socks, he wouldn’t have been able to move his toes. By now, it was mid-December, and all Sigurd wanted to do was cozy up and read. His novel was a Scandinavian true crime story, one of the many volumes that occupied his to-read list recently. This author, in particular, was absolutely skilled in controlling the amount of detail she lavished the reader with-

The phone rang, loud and obnoxious. Sigurd groaned and shut his book. 

_“Sig!”_ Magnus yelled. It must’ve been Sigurd’s phone, then, because Magnus usually took calls. 

“Hm? What’s the call for?” Sigurd poked his head from the living room as Magnus stood in the kitchen, tapping his foot awkwardly. Someone’s stomach growled - Sigurd wasn’t sure if it was his or not. Magnus gestured at the phone - an unknown number, of course, but it belonged to the region. “Just the usual. Probably a new customer.” 

_Ah, yes._ With the urgency of how inhumanly fast Magnus was bouncing about, Sigurd answered the phone quickly. Magnus seemed to know which calls were business calls like it was a sixth sense.

 _“Hallo?”_ An old habit, it was, to answer like he was living in Norway: but no, this was America, and things tended to be too similar than different. What he didn’t expect was the voice answering speaking at a million miles per hour. 

“This...number? Ghost busting or something? Things have gotten really, really, out of control, and I kinda need your help - the two of you, right? What are your names? Mine’s Vasile-”

“Sir, you’re going to need to slow down and describe the situation,” Sigurd huffed. He’d begun to make himself a sandwich, putting the phone on speaker as Magnus listened along. As big as his presence was, Sigurd felt the man could almost make himself invisible. 

“Ham?” Magnus whispered, gesturing to the giant leftover hock in the fridge. Sigurd gave him a nod, but Vasile (was that his name?) had already launched into another part of his conversation. “So, I’m no good at this, uh, ghost stuff, but my bathtub’s been clogged while I was trying to take a nice, hot bath, and now there’s water everywhere. Kinda need help on a spell to clean this up, too...Yeah. And there’s screaming - like really, really loud screaming in the kitchen near the sink.” Vasile paused for a second to take a breath, and in the distance, Sigurd could faintly hear demented screeching. 

Vasile let out a lofty exhale. “I think this thing’s out to kill my entire plumbing system, oh God, my brother’s gonna come home soon and he’ll _never_ believe this-”

Magnus stifled a giggle - Sigurd had only managed to toast the bread, and his friend was acting like he was watching a comedy show. But maybe it was. 

“Tell me your address. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” Maybe Sigurd shouldn’t have said that: there was still their afternoon snack, after all, but a pesky poltergeist was a trouble to be dealt with. The sooner, the better, was what they’d learned after a couple years of experience. Vasile gave him his information, and without further hesitation, Magnus finished making the sandwiches and prepared to bring them into the car. Hastily, the tall Dane grabbed the dusty spellbook from the bottom cabinet, and their go-to kit containing a flashlight, an impromptu kit for making a potion, a blanket (for lonely ghosts and stopping fires), and a bottle of water. They quickly hit the road, with Sigurd driving down the freeway ten miles per hour above the speed limit in his Toyota, which was kindly lent to him by his mom. 

Through a bite of his sandwich, Magnus spoke - “You know it’s a poltergeist, and therefore, you know I can be a little bit more of use. Yeah, I know I’m typically useful, but hey. For real.” 

There was a silence as Sigurd quickly switched lanes, let Magnus feed him a bit more of the sandwich, and refocused on the road. 

“Yes, you part-ghost-human thing. You make lots and lots of noise and ruckus, it’s kinda like you’re a poltergeist yourself,” Sigurd scoffed. 

Magnus laughed his hearty laugh and rolled down the window. Sigurd snapped at him to close it, as he could get affected by the cold much more easily as a complete, normal human being. 

The parts of his brain not focused on talking to Magnus were calculating what types of banishment spells he’d need to use, but it would depend on how strong the ghost was. Magnus could also tell him more about the ghost’s nature through intuition, which proved very useful in a tizzy. 

Vasile’s house was a fairly large one, in a new, modern style with two hybrid cars sitting outside on the parking lot. Sigurd felt a little dusty in his old sweater, but at least they’d finished eating before they came to knock on the door. Always rap thrice, and never ring the doorbell, as ghosts tended to irritate further with the dinging sound. The customer answered immediately, with panicked, reddish-brown eyes and- _Well._

If he was Magnus, Sigurd would’ve let out a low, appreciative whistle. But he was no Magnus, and thank God for that. Vasile was lean, like him, with beautiful, shiny hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. His derrière was also very generous given his build, and those skinny jeans framing his hips weren’t helping. Sigurd hoped Magnus was listening to what Vasile was saying, as he showed them around the house to demonstrate what type of havoc the poltergeist had caused. Upturned couches, spilled water, leaks… None of that mattered, right? Magnus and him both understood it was going to be a simple case to go about. 

“So, what happens here?” Vasile was pointing at the massive amount of vines sprouting from the drain. Magnus was also looking at Sigurd expectantly in that smug way of his (Sigurd hated when he did it), as if to say, _What do we do now, boss?_

“We’re gonna go to the screaming.” Part of Sigurd wanted to ask more questions, maybe linger a little longer than necessary to hear Vasile speak some more, but Magnus was already heading up the winding staircase. They had their answers anyway. It wasn’t like Vasile liked him back, too... _Wait, what?_

Sigurd sucked in a breath. “Come with me?”

Vasile nodded, and without further ado, they made it to the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

“Shit,” Magnus muttered. Water pooled out of the closed door - Vasile squeaked at that - and seeped into the carpet. They’d forgotten to take into consideration the  _ flooding, _ and their sneakers were going to be soaked through when they could’ve worn rubber boots.

“Okay, Magnus, tell me now-” Sigurd reached for the salt in the front pocket of their kit - “Benevolent or malevolent?”   


Magnus closed his eyes; the tips of his fingers turned transparent and hummed with a foreign energy. Sigurd had never tried to tap into that energy before, study it, and analyze its properties...because it was a part of Magnus. And Magnus, Sigurd could never, ever hurt. 

“Just a tormented soul,” Magnus whispered, a trace of empathy present for Sigurd’s ears to hear. It was still better to leave the character studies to the part-ghost himself, and all the spirit’s agony that would come along to him, then miscalculate as a team and worsen the situation. By now, Sigurd had told Vasile to take a few steps back and began sprinkling a salt circle around the bathtub. Every so often he could see little flashes of a spirit’s shape, the benefit of his own experience as a witch. He could see its rage.

The bathtub sloshed with water, a solid indicator of the poltergeist’s agitation. The lights flickered before going black entirely, and a wicked wind had begun to pick up around the house. Pain became power: this poltergeist was a stubborn one, refusing to leave. Sigurd’s shoes and socks were drenched, leaving his foot in a bitter, damp cold. The other had been long-lost in his early childhood from a parasitic infection, leaving a stub in place of a functioning ankle. He wore a prosthetic foot to help him walk comfortably and had been doing so since very young. By now, it was just another part of his body. 

Malevolent the poltergeist was. Sigurd needed no more observations, and Magnus could stop his pain. 

_ Focus.  _ That was what Sigurd’s mother had taught him, regardless of which magic belief and practice he used - Wiccan, Pagan, Shamanism, Voodoo, and more. Each of them were their own special languages with a different mental state, a different unconscious tongue that lulled the user to many depths of wonder. 

Finally, it was time. Sigurd pulled Vasile close by the arm, and linked arms with Magnus. By now, his friend’s entire hand was overtaken by his own ghost energy, but Magnus blocked it off through the force of his mind. Sigurd began an incantation. 

_ “Ashes to ashes, _

_ Dust to dust, _

_ May the wind blow you, wandering ghost _

_ And clear the world of the living, _

_ Turn you to where you belong, _

_ And may you disappear without a trace.” _

Magnus flung a pinch of salt into the bath water as a final stroke of luck, and with that, the water stilled at the mercy of the spell. The poltergeist was now banished to the spirit planes.

Vasile stared open-mouthed at Sigurd, and the smoke trailing from Magnus’s fingers, but kept quiet. Realizing what he was doing, Sigurd let his poor customer go and stepped back to stare at the mess. This was the reason they had an  _ hourly _ rate, because sometimes, messes made by stronger ghosts couldn’t be contained by the banishment incantation alone. 

“It’s gone?” Vasile’s face, illuminated by the returned light, peered into Sigurd’s innocently. Before he could respond, Magnus flashed him a big grin with a tacky thumbs up. “Yup, it is! Sig and I took nice and good care of it!”

Letting out a little sigh of relief, Sigurd watched Vasile bite his lip -  _ did he have fangs, or was it a trick of the light? _ \- and query about the rest of the damage. Sigurd replied they’d be doing a little more magic around the house, telling Vasile he could rest easy. 

“Divide and conquer?” Sigurd suggested, noting the upper and lower floors to inspect for ghost damage. Magnus frowned at him. “You don’t usually-”

“Well, it’s good to give it a try. More efficient, right? You’re all about that.” Honestly, Sigurd was nowhere near wanting to explain to Magnus why he wanted to deviate from the usual. But for him, it was simple - Vasile needed a little comforting, right?   


Giving him a questioning yet affirmative nod, Magnus decided he’d take the lower floor and stepped out of the bathroom. Almost immediately, when Magnus disappeared, Vasile launched into conversation. “So, magic! That’s how you do it. Pretty impressive, no?” 

Chuckling, Sigurd muttered a simple spell to unclog the drain. “Yes. That’s what we do.”

Disregarding the fact of how quickly Vasile recovered from having his house wrecked by a poltergeist, Sigurd could sense nothing but good-nature from his...companionship. 

“So! That was pretty painless. Suppose I could help you out with all the fixing you have to do?” Vasile bent over to look beneath the bathtub, and Sigurd did the exact opposite of averting his gaze. A little banging could be heard from beneath them - Magnus, probably. Sigurd wanted to appreciate Vasile’s ass for a little longer.

Humming for a bit, he considered Vasile’s question. It would take an ordinary person a long time to, well, fix the house up, but he supposed he could try and think. “You can help me, I guess. Like if you see anything odd? Point it out.”

Vasile  _ hmmphed.  _ Sigurd found it horribly cute.

“But that’s easy! I’m talking  _ bigger _ things.” 

Sigurd looked at the bathroom - by now, it was in reasonable shape. The water was gone from the floor, and the place was quite dry. 

“Care to pull the vines from the kitchen sink, or flip up the couches?” Sigurd proposed, opening the door of the bathroom to dry the carpet outside. Magnus would take care of the leakage in the basement, presumably, because that was what they mutually agreed on.

_ “No,” _ Vasile said.

With that, the lights went out a second time. Everything stilled.

_ “Magnus?” _ Sigurd whispered, watching a haunting darkness overtake the floors below. Magnus had the flashlight - he knew easy spells for light. He’d be fine.  _ He’d be fine. _ And for Sigurd? He had Vasile, if that meant anything at all. 

A lone howl came from...the living room downstairs, Sigurd determined, looking over the stair railing into the dark. A shiver ran down his spine, and quickly, he took off his wet sneakers and socks. Vasile came to stand right beside him once he was done, and their shoulders brushed and pressed together. One of them was burning hot. Sigurd was afraid to move away from Vasile, who was leaning so intently into him.

Like thunder, a guttural cry ripped out from the beast below. Sigurd’s breath hitched. The faint light from the sunset’s remnants scattered onto Vasile’s face, and with a finger and a thumb, he tipped Sigurd’s chin lower to meet his gaze.

Vaguely, Sigurd could hear Magnus call his name.

_ “This is why you’ll need my help.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea I'd spit out a chapter this fast! Jeez...I think it's that I need to return writing on my novel and the long "All These Tireless Nights" RomNor fic, but this one needs to be finished on Christmas day. A third chapter will arrive as promised, and that will be the conclusion to this fic!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise. more chapters.   
> this one was really difficult to write, as i had to draw in a lot of ends together and make this action scene somewhat logical to follow. anyways, enjoy! i swear this is the second to last chapter...god...and this will be finished by the end of my christmas day.  
> bon appetit

In a bout of adrenaline, Vasile bolted down the stairs, and Sigurd followed right after him. 

_ “Vârcolaci,” _ Vasile whispered, landing at the base of the staircase before swiping an arc with the tip of his foot. “It eats the sun.”

A wolf’s head turned to them from the other room, eyes shining with eerie light. It was surely the size of a bear, with appendages that could take down an elephant in an entire kill, and bound over trees. At any moment, Vârcolaci could lunge. But in a series of rapid steps and clattering vials in the toolkit, Sigurd turned to see Magnus, safe from the basement. 

“A damn maze down there,” he chuckled, before seeing the demon.  _ “Oh.” _

Sigurd immediately drew his finger out straight to prevent those who crossed over from the other world from stepping over. Fifteen minutes - that was the most his capability could allow, with immense focus. Already he felt like sweating.

Vârcolaci stepped a few feet closer with a cat’s nimbleness over the couch, almost undeterred by the barrier. Vasile took in a deep breath, turning to Magnus. “Garlic?”

As if it understood, Vârcolaci let out a threatening rumble. Sigurd realized how quickly his expertise would fall out of use, and their lives depended on how much Vasile truly knew, and how much  _ less _ human Magnus proved to be. There was a zip from the kit, and a head of garlic was quickly passed from Magnus to Vasile. 

“So. The thing about Vârcolaci is that...he cannot be defeated.” Vasile crushed some garlic with his fist, quickly breaking off another piece for Sigurd to do the same. “Only banished, kept at bay for the meanwhile. You see, he has only one purpose, and that is for the solar eclipse.” 

Magnus reached for the magic-encrypted knife at his side, a last resort for when spells couldn’t undo ghosts. Immediately, Vasile pulled his hand back. “No. Don’t attack. You’ll  _ surely  _ die.”

Gritting his teeth, Magnus instead sprinkled bits and pieces of the remaining garlic onto the floor. Even with the magic barrier, the plant was a weak defense against the powerful demon Vârcolaci, but it was better than nothing at all. Sigurd was only a witch: the best strategy was to keep these two safe and alive. As if amused with their antics, Vârcolaci sat down on the carpet without another word. It remained still. 

Magnus furrowed his brow in concentration. Sigurd knew that look on his face, the need to never stand idle. “Demon, why have you come?” 

At how callously Magnus had addressed the beast of myth, Sigurd sucked in a breath and pulled him in by the collar.  _ “You are not getting us killed.” _

“No,” Vasile said, as if in a trance. A golden whip came to his hands through celestial magic, settling right into his fist. With a huff, Sigurd put his friend back down on the ground. It was wrong to snap at him like that, not when he’d only been trying to help.

With a little lilt to his voice, Vasile spoke. “Vârcolaci, why have you visited us this day of the year?” 

Haughtily, Vârcolaci pointed its snout to the magic wall and the garlic scatterings - and Vasile fell to the ground with pain, a stressed cry leaving his lips. The golden whip temporarily ceased its glow, wherever he had summoned it from, and the ghosts began to press against the magic barrier in response. They hissed, burned a little from the proximity to the garlic, but persisted. 

Vârcolaci hurt Vasile like that, didn’t it? Just through... _ telepathy _ . Nothing natural came from demons. Bending down to pull him back up to his feet and check on him, Sigurd was soon shushed.

_ “Drop your barrier.”  _ With dark eyes, Vasile grabbed Sigurd’s wrist. 

But the ever-impatient Magnus, by now, had pulled out his dagger. Black smoke rose from the demon’s claws, before shifting into dark wraiths with twisted mouths and hollow eyes: the Romanian s _ trigoi _ . They became Vârcolaci’s defense mechanism, Sigurd concurred, if he hadn’t been scared out of his mind. The magic barrier pulsed warily, but kept the ghosts out. Ghosts, wraiths,  _ strigoi _ . They were familiar enough, right? 

Sigurd grabbed Vasile by the shoulder. “Is it you speaking? Or did Vârcolaci take you over?”

“Please, drop it.” Vasile coughed, and even though it had to be him, nervousness ran through Sigurd’s system. “The garlic will be enough.” 

Wordlessly, Sigurd obeyed - Magnus looked at him like he was crazy, because he was. At the mercy of a thousand ghosts, a fabled demon, and the most critical time in the moon’s position, Sigurd had chosen to listen to a stranger he just met. 

“The solar eclipse will only be...seven minutes, tops, right?” The witch closed his eyes in the dark. “All we have to do is wait until then.”

“I really don’t get why we’re stressing over this, then.” Magnus slashed angrily at a small ghost, watching it dissipate into the air. “We’ll wait. That’s it.” 

Vasile grinned, to Magnus’s dismay. “In the meanwhile, Vârcolaci doesn’t mean any harm. I have a little way of...talking to him. Or any physical beast, for that matter. Comes in handy, no?”

The uncertain fear replaced confidence in Vasile’s eyes again - how true his words were Sigurd wondered, but he was so enamored with every emotion on Vasile’s face. However, before either could speak, a hiss permeated the garlic, and it all withered and burned. Vârcolaci watched, flexed its paws, and every  _ strigoi _ the demon created crossed the line of protection.

“Impossible,” Sigurd breathed. But there would be no time for doubt. The clock had been set, and now, there was a race to live through the eclipse.

In a whirl, Magnus halved a dark spirit. They wanted him to  _ bleed _ , but in return, Magnus vowed to finish them. The golden sheen returned to Vasile’s whip, and in unison he lashed the detested light into a crowd of  _ strigoi _ , who clamored and shrieked. They weren’t endless, as powerful as the Vârcolaci was - there had to be a source. 

“Sig-” Vasile knew the boy couldn’t hear him from there, but he had to try. 

Sigurd had listened to what Vasile said, and now they paid for it with the risk of their lives - was it wrong of him to obey so soon? Vasile, the alluring liar, whatever double-agent he had become, couldn’t compare with Magnus - a trusted friend. Whether his then-pregnant mother had been cursed or not by spirits didn’t matter, and what Magnus was made of, poltergeist or human, meant nothing in the test of character. Sigurd knew those facts. 

“Sigurd, duck!” Vasile cried, flinging out the barbed whip against a cluster of  _ strigoi _ .  _ Where was Magnus? _ The house was so impossibly dark. 

“You never told us Vârcolaci’s answer!” Sigurd yelled, racking his mind for spells as he dove under the couch.

“You’re the answer!” _ ” _ Vasile called, and Vârcolaci rose to its haunches. “It wants  _ you!” _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing a chapter a day has taken a huge goddamn toll on me, and none of this is beta read at all. whatever! this was really really, fun and i enjoyed sending out of context lines to a friend. hey. it's not THAT inappropriate. this was so worth it, and i hope you guys had as much fun reading this as i did writing. :) kudos and comments are appreciated!

_“WHAT?!”_ Sigurd almost screamed. Whispering a spell as quickly as he could, his fist lit up into a glowing flame and expelled the demons in proximity. He gritted his teeth in pain - now, he began to feel the toll of magic. Magnus had only half a second to warn him of the imminent danger behind them, and together, they expelled more of the _strigoi_. If it touched you, you were as good as dead. Vârcolaci watched as the wraiths returned, flying in circles over Magnus and Sigurd as they, over and over, spent their best attempts trying to defeat them. It was working, wasn’t it, killing them all? These ghosts were material manifestations of agony, and could be expelled through physical weapons and spells.

“No!” Magnus shouted to no one in particular, but Vasile pushed through the throng of wraiths to meet Sigurd. The witch could feel the fury burning in his friend’s eyes to the person who’d dragged them in a situation complicated beyond words.

“Wait,” Vasile said breathlessly, cutting through a  _ strigoi _ to grab Sigurd’s wrist. “This is just a test. He wants you. Disciple. I-”

Out of the blue, Magnus pushed Sigurd to the ground before he had a chance to respond, and his back hit the floor with a sick  _ thump.  _ Letting out a groan, Sigurd watched Magnus’s dagger glow with light, slicing another too-close  _ strigoi.  _ He should’ve been more careful. 

“God _ dammit _ , Magnus-” Sigurd’s back wanted to die, but he knew his friend was doing it for the best. He swore again before trying to get up, but Vasile lifted him to his feet with a simple spell. So that hot bastard knew magic, too!

“Seven minutes are up.” With considerate eyes, Vasile saw them, and released his whip back to the spirit planes. Finally, the solar eclipse was over. From the other end of the living room, a little light came back from the outside, and every  _ strigoi  _ left weak and dying vanished like dust into the air. Sigurd saw the sweat and grime on Vasile’s face, how tousled his hair was with the ponytail barely holding it together. Did the fighting stop, or did Vârcolaci have more for them? It was quiet without the wraiths screaming in their ear.

_Vârcolaci doesn’t mean any harm._ That was what Vasile had said, and he’d believed him. Drenched in sweat, Sigurd’s body ached as he finally stumbled over to Magnus’s arms. His consciousness flickered in and out in his magic usage-induced stupor. Sigurd couldn’t feel his fingers or coherently count to ten, but Magnus held him tight anyway. 

“That was seven minutes?” Magnus looked warily at Vasile, who had begun approaching Vârcolaci. Sigurd closed his eyes and nodded. 

The two of them heard Vasile cough as the force of Vârcolaci’s thoughts came to his mind. “Sigurd, a minute, please? It’ll be the last of this.” 

Magnus pulled Sigurd in protectively, leading him to a couch to rest. “Didn’t you let those damned wraiths in? You could’ve told us beforehand, but you didn’t. You better give me a reason to trust you.”

A few lightbulbs turned on. Vârcolaci had walked over to Vasile, by now, and was nudging him with his head. He licked his dry lips. “Magnus, I don’t have a reason. I’ve made my mistakes and calling you on the day of the solar eclipse might’ve been one of them. If you give me a...moment to recollect, I might be able to tell you what Vârcolaci said and more.”

Sigurd curled up by bringing his knees into his chest on the couch. He wanted a nap.

Growling, Magnus stormed over to Vasile, but halted at the feet of the dangerous Vârcolaci. The two of them, Magnus figured, were accomplices: What a way to make it all worse. “Come on. Go. Say it.”

“Firstly,” Vasile started, petting Vârcolaci like it was something normal, “You know I talk to animals. They talk to me. For the unruly ones, I tame them. But for as great a demon as Vârcolaci, it is my honor to fulfill their requests and get a little power in return.”

Sigurd was so close to falling asleep, but if he could stay awake just a minute longer, he could get his answers. Magnus seethed.

“But as for Vârcolaci, he wishes to part from me.” With a crack of lightning, a miniscule version of a thunderstorm spawned from an uttered word. Vasile lifted the side of his shirt, and on his skin Sigurd could view the wolf demon as a tattoo. It was a powerful mark, taking great strength to bear.

Magnus understood immediately the capability Vasile wielded. “You-You really are a  _ tamer, _ if you can...”

Vasile raised a finger at him. “But I’m bull at spells and magic. Vârcolaci wants someone new, and...Sigurd happens to be his choice. Which is why I called to get rid of the poltergeist. Well, it was time, no? My brother’s gonna be home in thirty minutes.” 

Peeling himself from the couch, Sigurd sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Vârcolaci’s gonna stay with me, no,  _ on _ me?” 

The beast tamer joining Sigurd on the couch instantly caused Magnus to sit in between the two of them. 

“Short answer is yes, but the long answer is you’ll only be the vessel. I’ll have to stay to help you two communicate.” 

Pulling Sigurd close, Magnus retorted, “And what if Sigurd refuses?”

Vasile had been more than prepared for this answer. “Vârcolaci will devour the sun for as long as he wants. He won’t hurt you, as I’m fine, but Sigurd’s got no choice but to be the demon’s vessel.”

Sigurd focused on what his mind could process - Vasile’s voice, proximity, and Magnus’s presence. He naturally preferred the former, staring at the man’s lips and  _ fangs _ , for heaven’s sake.  _ Was it a trait of demon tamers? _

“Unlike Magnus here,” Sigurd almost slurred, “I’d rather not let the world die, so Vârcolaci can come with me. ”

Magnus sucked in an indignant breath, but respected Sigurd’s decision. Given what Vârcolaci was capable of summoning so effortlessly, Vasile had to be telling the real truth. All too soon, the thunder and lightning scene played again as Vârcolaci reappeared in front of the couch.

Vasile tipped his head at Magnus. “If you could stand, please. I’ll need the space.” 

Obeying, Magnus watched with fury as Sigurd spread himself on the couch shamelessly. There  _ had _ to be something going on between the two of them. “Vasile, if you hurt him…”

Firmly shaking his head, Vasile met Magnus’s burning gaze. “I won’t.”

“So he’s chosen me,” Sigurd whispered, and Vasile asked him where he wanted the tattoo.  _ The thigh?  _ It’d certainly fit, that was for sure. 

“Roll down your pants, then,” Vasile replied. Magnus spluttered, but kept quiet before turning around to give his friend a little privacy. 

Did Sigurd mind the attention he was getting from Vasile so intently staring at him? He wasn’t sure himself, but it was strange to be sitting on someone else’s couch and stripping off his jeans for them. By now, he was exhausted - all Sigurd craved was a painless ordeal, and by now, his right thigh was fully exposed. A chill ran down his spine, but in a blink of an eye Vasile had grabbed the skin of his leg and pressed a palmful of celestial energy into it. 

“SHI-” 

Safe to say, Sigurd was fully awake. Vasile rubbed the traces of the magic away onto Sigurd’s leg. “You can zip up pants now, as nice as it was.”

_ What?  _ All Sigurd felt was the burn of energy, and the persistent soreness from everything before. Also, did Magnus just growl?

“Well. Vârcolaci’s going to settle in, now, and if you have problems-” 

“That’s going to be forty dollars for an hour,” Sigurd said, unblinking. “An additional twenty for large scale damages. We’ll have to stay behind and fix the house, still, so an additional forty. Total comes up to be a hundred flat.”

“I-” Vasile started, but stopped. Sigurd came here for business, and they’d finish it. Reaching for his pocket, he Venmoed the witch the money through his miraculously whole, unshattered phone. Sensing they were done, Magnus picked up the kit from behind the couch and glared at his customer.

“Thanks for uhh...everything,” Vasile said awkwardly. 

What was Sigurd now, a harbor for a Romanian demon? Had he just dragged in a demon tamer as well into their ghost banishing business in an evening? Magnus retrieved their wet shoes from upstairs, and it was time to finish cleaning up the house.

With a sigh, Sigurd rubbed his temple. The mess from the poltergeist seemed like an eternity ago, and Magnus was already calling him to get started. Newly formed, the tattoo on his thigh buzzed with life. 

Today, Sigurd learned it was a wild, wild world beyond just ghosts...but if problems ever came up in the magic world, there’d be Vasile.

And of course, there would be a spell or two for that as well.

* * *

> _**Fin** _


End file.
